


until the stars have run away

by the_ragnarok



Series: cat!Jon [14]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Canon Asexual Character, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Non-Sexual Kink, Relationship Negotiation, Rope Bondage, Sex-Repulsed Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Stimming, ace subtype: was sex neutral before and is sex repulsed now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27372610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: A holiday in the Scottish highlands, but mostly Jon having relationship revelations.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood
Series: cat!Jon [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622008
Comments: 66
Kudos: 378





	until the stars have run away

"Staying late, are we?"

Jon startles at the voice addressing him as he makes tea in the work kitchenette. Fortunately, he doesn't burn himself. He turns around to see Arnold, his coworker. "You should really stop alarming people holding mugs full of boiling water," he mutters.

Arnold's brow furrows. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that..."

Jon gives a tight smile. "It doesn't matter. And it's not that late," he says, mostly to deflect.

"Not late, he says, at eight in the evening." Arnold's eyebrows rise. "I'd hate to see what you call a long day - I know you're here at the crack of dawn, as well." He leans against the counter. "I promised my boss I'd finish my reviews by tomorrow; what are you in for?"

"Just trying to tidy up loose ends," Jon says. "Speaking of which, I really should--"

"It's probably not healthy, staying in all these hours," Arnold says. "You can always finish tomorrow, can't you?"

Since it appears he will not escape otherwise, Jon says, "I'm going on vacation next week, actually, so you understand I have some issues to resolve before I go."

"Oh, lovely," Arnold says, appreciatively. "Taking your missus?"

"I'm not married," Jon says stiffly. "I am taking my boyfriend, yes."

To his relief, Arnold doesn't bat an eyelash. To his consternation, Arnold says, "Well, you should have a good time, if you know what I mean?" He accompanies the words with a suggestive eyebrow waggle.

Jon just barely keeps from grimacing. "Thank you for your interest," he says, frosty, and walks back to his station without letting Arnold put another word in. It might be time to start considering a new job.

* * *

Martin opens the door to his flat wearing pyjamas, but he seems fairly awake. He welcomes Jon inside without a word. Jon steps over the threshold and into Martin's arms. As Martin holds him strong and secure, Jon wants to melt, he does, but a little part of him will not yield to rest. 

Of course, Martin notices. “What do you need?”

“It’s late,” Jon protests feebly. “You should be going to sleep.”

“Neither of us has work tomorrow. Do you really want me to stop asking, or are you worried about imposing?”

It’s hard to explain. Answering Martin feels like stretching a sore limb; it hurts, but it’s a good ache. “I wish I were a computer,” Jon says in lieu of a proper response. “So you could just, I don’t know, do a hard reset.” He winces as he says the words. He can see Arnold talking about Jon asking for a _hard reset_ with that same insufferable eyebrow waggle.

If Martin noticed that possible joke, he makes no sign of it. He hums thoughtfully. “Rope?” he suggests.

Jon sags a little despite himself. “Only if you’re not too tired.”

“I napped earlier. Sofa?”

Not half an hour later, they’re cuddled on the sofa, Jon held in the double embrace of ropes and Martin’s arms, drifting happily with his head pillowed on Martin’s shoulder. Martin pets his hair firmly, slowly. It’s perfect. 

As the room begins to resolve into recognizable objects, Jon blinks up at Martin, smiling benevolently down at him. “What about you?” Jon’s tongue feels thick, the words a little garbled. 

Martin frowns. “What about me?” he says, confused. 

Jon shakes his head, trying to find words. “You haven’t,” he says, “I was in subspace, and you could have, you know. But you didn’t. You haven’t in a while now,” he realizes. 

“You’re talking about sex.” Martin seems marginally more certain. 

“Yes. That.” 

Martin considers. “Is that a problem?” he says tentatively. “Did you want me to initiate?”

“No,” Jon says. He flinches a little at the firmness of his own tone. Tries to come up with qualifiers, something to soften the statement, but he can’t find any other response within him. 

“Well, there you go.” Martin shrugs. “You’ve said no a few times in a row, a while back, and honestly it’s just - easier not to ask. And now I know you don’t want it, of course I’m not going to try anything.” He takes in Jon’s expression, and gently adds, “I didn’t come into this relationship expecting sex to be on the table. If it is, that’s nice, I won’t deny that. But if it’s not, that’s not a problem or a, a hardship. I have you in my life, and that’s what matters.”

Jon’s heart hammers. “For how long?” he demands.

Martin blinks. “For as long as you want me,” he says. “I thought that was obvious.”

“What, you’ll just - give up sex?” Jon sits up and gestures sharply. “For another year? Five? Ten?”

Patiently, Martin repeats, “For as long as you want me.”

There’s something wrong, something that’s not okay. Jon gets up to pace. “Don’t talk about us like that.” The words come out too forbidding, not the plea Jon intended them to be. “Like it’s all up to me, and you don’t get to choose if you want to leave.”

“Of course I get to choose that,” Martin huffs. “I just - won’t. Why would I?”

Jon turns to him, incensed, about to list the reasons Martin shouldn’t, in fact, be happy with him, but what comes out instead is, “Marry me.” 

Martin’s eyes widen, round and huge.

“I mean, we’ve been dating for a year, so that’s not too soon,” Jon says. Their upcoming trip to the highlands was meant to be their anniversary celebration. “You say you want to be with me for, for the foreseeable future, and I want the same thing, so. Why not? We could move in together. It’ll save on expenses.”

Martin closes his eyes, and Jon has a sinking feeling he’d bungled this completely. Martin sighs, and Jon _knows_ he’d mucked it up. What kind of proposal brings up expenses? What’s wrong with him?

When Martin opens his eyes again, they’re suspiciously bright. “It’s late,” Martin says quietly, “and you’re still coming off the scene.”

Jon hates himself for asking, “So… that’s a no?”

“That’s a _let’s think about this later_ ,” Martin says. “Jon, honestly, did marrying me even occur to you before this very moment?”

“I’ve had related thoughts,” Jon mutters. “Marriage-adjacent ones.”

Martin laughs, warm and sweet. “Well, maybe turn over the actual-marriage thoughts a bit in your head before you take it further, okay?”

* * *

Jon has to concede that giving the notion of marriage a good think when he's not out of his mind with fatigue and endorphins might be a good idea. It's just that now that the thought struck, he can't budge it.

They're cooking breakfast together, maneuvering around each other in Martin's tiny kitchen, and Jon can't stop thinking about - this, every day for the rest of their lives. 

Maybe in a slightly larger kitchen, though. 

Martin has sage growing on his windowsill, a little scraggly but surviving nonetheless. Martin talks to it, explaining in a hushed voice before he cuts off a few leaves for their tea. "Not too many!" he reassures the plant. "No more than you can spare."

Jon averts his gaze and stirs the eggs in the pan. The tips of his ears feel warm. 

Martin hasn't said anything of their exchange from yesterday. Jon might have thought he'd forgotten if it weren't for the looks Martin darts at him every so often, soft and yearning even though Jon is right here beside him. 

They leave after the meal. Jon falls asleep on the train, head pillowed on Martin's shoulder.

* * *

They get a little lost around their second exchange. The train station is loud and unfamiliar, and Jon's head hurts. Martin's irritable, too, trying to ask directions of other harried passengers. 

In a moment's lull, Martin's eye catches Jon, who steels himself not to flinch in anticipation of some petty argument. Martin's expression softens minutely. "Can you believe this nonsense?" he asks Jon before resuming his task. 

They get on their final train in the nick of time. Martin finds them seats and dumps their luggage with a weary sigh as they sit down. "Finally," he says, head leant back. He glances at Jon, tucked into the corner, and makes no motion to touch him. He does give him a thin, tired smile. "Doing alright?"

"As well as could be expected," Jon mumbles. 

His mind jumps back to Elias, to the one time he'd tried to take Jon abroad, how that had ended with snapping and shouted arguments and Jon hiding, shaking, in the hotel bathroom. 

He knows Elias is an extremely low bar to work from. Honestly, he does. But he can't help but compare Martin's solid core of kindness, even as stress piles up over both of them. 

He can't touch Martin right now, couldn't touch anyone right now. But when he catches Martin's attention, he puts his hands together in a heart sign. Martin's eyes crinkle at the corners, and he returns the gesture.

* * *

Scotland is beautiful. 

Their vacation is idyllic, a pastoral fantasy. And yet Jon's mind catches on the small parts.

On arriving at the cottage exhausted from the road and Martin making him a cup of tea before collapsing on the bed.

On the day Jon fell into a puddle and Martin only sniggered a little bit before sending him into a hot shower. When Jon stepped out, he found clean clothes waiting for him, warm from the nearby stove.

On waking up a full hour before Martin, the satisfaction of cooking him breakfast and bringing it to him in bed.

Tonight, Jon blinks awake from a dream he can't remember except for the distinct sensation of hands grasping and plucking at him. He leaves the bed quietly, stopping to rummage through his bag for the turtle Martin gave him. 

Half an hour later, Martin finds him on the deck, staring at the sky and idly flipping the turtle's sequins from one side to another. 

"You must be freezing," Martin says softly. Jon, who only just noticed this, accepts the blanket that Martin offers him, draping it across his shoulder. 

"You should go back to bed," Jon tells him.

Martin shrugs. "I'd rather be out here with you."

"I'd rather be with you, too," Jon says slowly, eyes fixed on the fading stars above. "I'd always rather be with you, I think."

Martin inhales. "Yeah?" His voice is hushed, as if in deference to the hour.

Jon can't hug him, but he can place the turtle in Martin's lap, still warm from his own skin, and say, "Being with you is good. It's always better than not. Let's do that for the rest of our lives."

"Jon," Martin says slowly, "are you trying to propose again? Because I'm pretty sure you just woke up from a nightmare."

Irritably, Jon says, "If you'll only accept a proposal from me when I'm well rested, we're both going to be waiting a very long time."

Martin laughs. "Alright, fair enough."

They sit in silence for another moment. "Well?" Jon says. "What's your answer?"

"Yes," Martin says immediately. "Yes, of course. I thought I made myself clear, if you want to get rid of me you'll have to tell me to go."

Jon scowls. "I'm going to do the opposite of that," he informs Martin. 

"Okay," Martin says, back to his soft tone of earlier. 

They sit, two steps apart, and watch the sun rise.

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic:   
> \- workplace heterosexism and allosexism, bordering on harassment  
> \- brief discussion of Jon and Martin's sex life with no descriptions  
> \- brief memories of Jon's abusive relationship with Elias  
> \- turtle cameo


End file.
